


i'll get funny again.

by ahoycastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:14:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahoycastiel/pseuds/ahoycastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Lucifer stabbed Gabriel, the archangel's grace shattered and was flung off into the dimensions. Now, Sam is hearing his name is odd places and with all the pranks going on, he's not happy with his innocent brother. Hammer of the God's spoilers/end of season 5 spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll get funny again.

"Sam!"

The hunter twisted around as he stepped out of the shower, almost succeeding in ripping the shower curtain from the rod as he slipped on the rug under his feet. He was a flailing mess of arms and legs for a few tense seconds until his hands found purchase on the counter and he steadied himself.

He and Dean were in a cheap motel, skipping away from a vampire nest that they'd ratted out the day before. The room was decorated with some kind of psychedelic 80's theme that hurt to look at. The sheets were musty, the mattresses too thin, the shower was moldy - and Sam swore he'd just heard his name being called from inside the drain.

Sam had seen and heard enough crazy stuff to put away the idea that hearing voices from the deep-drain-beyond was impossible. It could be a dryad or even a ghost lurking in the pipes for all he knew. Snatching up a towel, he wrapped it around himself before poking his head out of the bathroom door to look for Dean.

"Dude, are you yelling - " When he looked around, the motel room was empty. His eyes narrowed and he checked around before flipping open his newest cell phone and finding a text from Dean about going out to get something from the Taco Bell he'd seen down the road. Make sure you get me something, was his reply before he dug out clothes, still feeling weird about hearing his name being called the drain of a retro-motel bathroom.

 

Metallica was killing Sam's brain cells after listening to the same tape for two hours. Dean refused to put on anything from Sam's iPod and he had resorted to sulking when Dean threatened to use it the next time he needed something to shoot at for target practice. Sam takes to humming Ramblin' Man to himself with the strange feeling that something he has to say is on the tip of his tongue.

Instead of saying anything, he keeps quiet, looking out the window and trying to shake the feeling of a thought running just out of his reach. It plagues him and he taps his fingers to the timing of the music inside of his head.

Sam hated the feeling of deja vu and found that his stomach dropped when he realized that was what was bothering him. The deja vu was swamping him and distracting him enough that he hadn't realized Dean was snapping at him to stop humming and telling him to "enjoy the tunes". So, he stares out the window instead, itching when signs flash by and the feeling of having been here before spikes and when he asks Dean if they had been to this town before, Dean rolls his eyes and tells him he's losing his touch.

When the cassette's tape comes unraveled an hour later hour, Dean grumbles and turns the dial to find a station that he's fine with listening to for another three. The Allman Brothers Band rose from the speakers for a moment and Dean paused to listen and Sam let his brow collect over the bridge of his nose. 

This deja vu was a little too far part coincidence for his taste.

 

"I swear, it wasn't me," Dean protested through a smirk that he was trying to fight down. That alone would be good enough reason for Sam not to trust him. Another reason was because Dean had been the only one in the hotel room at the time, the door had been locked the usual precautions had all been in place. 

Sam was glaring at him in the bathroom mirror while wiping down his face with a dingy towel. "I don't want to start this whole practical joke thing again," he grumbled, turning on the shower to wash the shaving cream from his hair. It was all over his shirt, smeared on his legs and on the hotel sheets. He'd woken up with it spread across his face in the shape of a beard. 

Dean snorted as he shoved the hex bags spread out across the hotel room into his duffle bag in preparation to get the hell out of Dodge. "Whatever. I'm just telling you, it wasn't me."

 

When Sam started hearing his name from a plant in the corner at a small family restaurant, he managed to check his EMF without anyone except Dean noticing but he did get a few strange looks for flicking holy water from his fingers. 

"You've been a little weirder than normal lately," Dean rumbled around a mouthful of burger. "Usually, you rank about a six on the weirdness-Richter Scale. You're getting near a 9.8 - "

Sam threw up a finger and hissed for quiet from across the booth. "Tell me you heard that," he demanded, eyes narrowed at the napkin dispenser. Dean raised an eyebrow, wiping his mouth slowly with his hand and glancing around.

"Listen, maybe it's a poltergeist or you're just imagining things." At Sam's frustrated glare, he put his hands up in defense. "We'll do some work when we get back to Bobby's but for now, let's not start talking to ferns again." He dove back into his fries, leaving Sam to stare moodily into his salad and pick at the cucumbers and croutons, muttering under his breath.

"It was a ficus."

 

The next week at Bobby's, Sam pours over everything he can find on disembodied voices that stretches past the mundane. Dean and Bobby do their best to help once they decide to actually take him seriously, but even they give up after four days. The house is guarded against everything Bobby could dream up - despite that, Sam still hears the voice. By his estimate, it's been six weeks since he first started hearing it. 

He tried all the spells he can find on summoning whatever it is that's talking to him. He tried to banish it, kill it, ward it off with hex bags and sigils, and even went so far as to try a Ouija Board to try and communicate with it. That was when Dean dropped his books in temporary defeat and went out to bury himself under the Impala, claiming something about the break pads needing checked. He'd been out there for nearly three days and Sam had lost track of what his goal was at the moment.

The voice only ever says his name. Depending on his current efforts, the tone changes from scornful to amused. Sam is sure he's being mocked for the Ouija Board when his name gets drawn out into "Sammy" rather than Sam and he's left making a list of everyone he knows who's died recently.

It hits him like a 2-ton lead weight and he drops the book he's leafing through lazily to run out to the Impala. Impatient, he tugs Dean out from under it by the ankle and he rolls out, a grease stain on his chin and his hands grimy with it. "Dude - " He snatches up a spare flannel to wipe himself up with while Sam interrupts him to explain himself.

"It's the Trick - er, Gabriel." That's all it takes for Dean to go off on a tangent, throw the shirt on the ground after wiping his hands, all the while ranting and raving about the archangel. Sam doesn't let him fume for long before he's dragging Dean back inside to wash up quickly while he starts getting supplies together for a summoning spell that's angel-specific.

Dean wants to do it at first, but concedes when Sam shoots him a withering look and raises an eyebrow. They get together everything they need to call an angel and Dean stands by while Sam mutters the spell out of the corner of his mouth.

Sam can't move for the anticipation laced in his gut. Dean is still, probably holding his breath, watching his brother - Sam is listening too hard, everything inside of him tightly wound. It has to be Gabriel. There isn't anyone else who would put food coloring in his soda to turn his teeth red or replace all the frosting in the Oreo's with mint tooth paste.

The air is electrified until the hair stands up on Sam's arms. He can feel the shifting around him down into his gut. It's driving him crazy, he needs to know so he can breathe again, someone draws in a breath right next to his -

A raspberry explodes in his ear, air blown hard enough to part his hair. Sam flies almost a foot in the air and Dean jumps slightly. "Gabriel!" Sam's voice is full of reproach as he quivers. A huffing laughter in his ear makes him jerk his head to look to the side. He doesn't see anyone but he can feel them standing there, just out of his sight.

"Nice try, Sammy." The teasing tone is light and airy with hardly any tangible sound behind it, like whoever is behind it can't get it out. Something swoops out of Sam's lungs and he knows the archangel is there.

 

Months drag on with Sam's name whispered in his ear and thumb tacks left on chairs that he's bound to sit on. Every third Sunday, Sam tries to summon Gabriel again. It usually results in a surge of energy and more responses for a few weeks until Gabriel's energy wanes. 

Dean took to calling Gabriel's presence Sam's "little problem" in public; mostly when they were around people who could give Sam odd looks when Dean brought it up. Even though Dean voiced his displeasure about Gabriel at least three times a week, Sam found himself looking forward to hearing his name from just over his shoulder and a tug on his hair. When Dean caught Sam talking to thin air in the motel room one day, sharing his thoughts on a case they were working on, he didn't let Sam forget it.

He can't stop himself from trying to find a solution to getting rid of Gabriel, so Dean calls Cas, who isn't sure what to tell them besides the fact that he can feel Gabriel's grace. It's just a little blip and Cas tells them he isn't sure whether or not he should advise them to ignore him. 

There's only one time when Sam does ignore Gabriel - they'd been on plenty of hunts where Sam would call out for him without thinking. It was always quick, hovering between a swear and a plea for assistance, even though they had long ago established that Gabriel couldn't just pop in. 

This time, Dean is unconscious and about to be wiped by a vengeful spirit while Sam is caught up trying to ax down the door that's been blocked by an ancient wardrobe. Each swing splinters the door, but not fast enough for Sam's liking, and his arms are tight with fear.

"Gabriel, you son of a bitch," he mutters under his breath without slowing down. "You should have told me what was going on." Of course, the archangel had hinted at cases before with a whisper or a prod in the right direction by knocking over certain books in libraries and pulling up webpages that fit whatever they were hunting, and had even given Sam a quick head's up in some tricky spots. "If you knew and didn't tell me, I swear I'm going to kick your little feathered ass."

With no response and only a discontented silence, Sam was on his own and managed to get through the door and past the furniture before Dean was seriously hurt. They're safely back in the hotel room, Dean still knocked out, with Sam pacing in front of the beds when he tries to talk to Gabriel again.

"I swear, Gabe, if you know something is going to happen like that, you've got a help me out, man," he sighs, pushing his hair away from his forehead and rubbing the back of his neck as his hand swipes downwards. He stops pacing and looks absently towards the door, like Gabriel will just burst through it like he did when Sam and Dean were trapped in his channel surfing madness.

The air grows thicker with agitation and Sam's mouth pulls down in a frown. "You did know, didn't you?" His voice is sharper than usual and he scoffs, shaking his head and crossing his arms. "You know what. Nevermind. Hang around as long as you want. Throw in your two cents whenever you want, and not when it really matters."

On the first week of ignoring Gabriel, Dean agrees wholeheartedly that Sam should have ignored him right from the get-go. Gabriel doesn't do anything besides sulk around in the Impala. Sam can feel him like an itch he can't scratch.

At the end of the second week, Gabriel waits until Sam is sitting at the table at 4 in the morning before he seamlessly pulls up a page on omen's that match the spectral creatures that have been haunting the town they're in. Sam pauses to read it with his fingers hovering over the keys before he glances down and types out, "Thanks," into the search bar.

The third week, Sam is laying in bed with his face against a musty pillow at Bobby's house. Dean's on the couch downstairs and he's in the spare room down the hall from Bobby's room. There's a light tugging on his hair that he bats at. It happens again and air blows into Sam's ear. "Knock it off, Gabe," he sighs, sinking into his pillow. There's a moment of blessed silence before a gentle tug turns Sam's head towards the light from the window. He can't help it when he grins and jerks away. "Good night, Gabriel." Gentle, contented humming from over his shoulder eases him to sleep.

Week number four is a mess of finding Pestilence. After they get his ring, Dean calls Bobby's spare room and Sam crashes on the couch with his shoes still on his feet and his jacket hanging off of one shoulder. In the morning, his shoes have found their way back to the door and his jacket is resting on the back of a kitchen chair. There's a pillow propped under his head, a blanket thrown over him and he has the distinct feeling his hair has been combed through from the way it's pushed behind his ear. 

It's a week late, but Sam manages to squeeze in the summoning ritual for Gabriel. He hasn't heard from him for three days and hadn't made the connection until he glanced at the calender. After the ritual, Sam can feel Gabriel preening and laughing at him every chance he gets. It's a nice interruption from what's going on and Sam welcomes the warmth that blows across his cheeks as he gives in and explains everything to Gabriel even though he's been around the whole time, just unable to talk and show off by hiding Sam's underwear. 

Gabriel doesn't approve of what's going on. He sends up warning flares, huffs in annoyance, and the way Sam's name sounds coming from his unseen tongue doesn't sit well in Sam's gut. It's disapproving, frustrated, and as far as Sam can tell, the angel is actually worried. About him. The thought has hardly crossed his mind before he's fighting back a grin as the corners of his mouth twitch. Gabriel's buzzing pauses and then increases ten fold. 

"Sam." It's an exasperated snap that has the hunter grinning in earnest. 

"You're the one who wanted me to play my role," he pointed out, tapping his fingers on Bobby's desk in front of him. Gabriel, dark with fury, sputters next to his ear and ignites something in his stomach. Softer, Sam adds, "I can do this." He looks up at where he imagines Gabriel to be and feels his own expression breaking to show how unnerved he is. "But keep an eye on Dean just in case." There's a gashing of teeth that sounds oddly consenting.

Before he can speak again, Sam has to gather himself and looks at his hands. "You'll stay close to me, won't you?" It goes quiet and the only thing he can hear is the tell-tale sounds of Dean and Bobby outside. "Keep me - Lucifer - from doing anything too stupid, right?" He holds his breath. "Gabe?"

There's a small sigh, a fond tugging on a lock of his hair, and the one syllable word that is most comforting to him right now is whispered into his ear. "Of course, Sam."

 

Gabriel follows Sam's wishes even after his arrogant brother is flaunting around in his meat-sack. It ruffles his feathers in all the wrong ways to see Sam not acting like himself - if he's honest, he's selfish and has to keep his grace from spilling over with jealously that Lucifer would even touch Sam.

Because, and he'd never admit this verbally to anyone, he's gotten used to the idea of Sam being his. Ever since Lucifer stabbed him and killed the core of Gabriel's grace and particles of it were thrown into all 17 dimensions (because, really, only humans would think there were just 3 or even 4), and one of them found Sam and drifted along with him, Gabriel had grown fond to the mutton-head. Even Dean was familiar to him.

But this... Staying just out of range of Lucifer's detection to tail Sam and not being able to reach out with the remaining tendrils of his being to brush his hair back or ghost imaginary feathers over the back of his hand, this was hurting him like it had hurt to tear himself away from Heaven. If he would look hard enough, he'd see Sam's soul laying under the pressure of Lucifer's but there was nothing he could do without alerting the Morning Star to the fact that the Messenger of God was alive and kicking. Metaphorically.

The day when Sam breaks through and Lucifer is held in the clutches of his soul so that the hunter can fling himself and Michael into the Pit, Gabriel springs forward. Sam is Sam, and even though Gabriel can feel himself drifting and he's not as strong as he was two weeks ago when Sam renewed his presence with a summoning ritual, Gabriel makes himself known. He feels sick because he knows what is coming and if he hadn't been so Hell-bent on this idea at one time, he's sure he would be doing his best to change the course of everything right now.

"Sam," he greets in small whispers, and knows he has about three seconds. He takes one of them to tug at Sam's hair while Sam tells Dean that it's okay. He steals another second to splash all the warmth he can muster across the shell of Sam's ear and to press his grace as close as he can. Lucifer's own is close enough to shatter the air and create a burning smell. It prickles Gabriel in all the wrong ways. Sadness, pain, anger and betrayal all send tiny solar flares up around him and pockets of air crackle like lightning.

Sam is turning and there is the Pit. Gabriel hugs close, feeling Michael's confusion broadcasted across the lines of his grace; they hadn't seen each other in centuries. Gabriel's graces pull together in one tug as he feeds of the grace of the other archangels and a surge sends a deep warmth into Sam's chest. When he breaths into Sam's ear, Sam is reaching for Michael's vessel. "I won't leave you."


End file.
